Keeping Them Safe, page 18
“Yeah.” He pushed back his chair and rose.
“Heading to the bakery?” Wade drummed four fingers over the left side of his blue shirt, like a beating heart.
Bowie let a pleased grin slide up his face. “The vet clinic.”
Wade read his mind and laughed. “Bring back some pecan rolls. The sticky caramel kind.”
* * *
For Sage, the days sailed past.
Thanksgiving had come and gone. Then, according to Ms. Bea, the crazy season began in full force.
Sage was hard-pressed to imagine how much busier things could get.
She tore a piece from a freshly baked loaf of lemon cranberry bread. “Try this, Ms. Bea, and see if I got it right.”
Bea took the sample and looked it over. “Crumb is excellent.” She popped it in her mouth and chewed thoughtfully. Her brown eyes widened. “Perfection. Give me another bite.”
Sage laughed, pleased.
“You’re becoming quite the bread baker.” Bea rolled her chair to the refrigerator and took out a bowl of butter.
The pride Sage felt in baking bread surprised her. She loved working and shaping the dough, tasting the results, experimenting with different recipes and spices.
For someone who’d once dreamed of fame and fortune as a supermodel, reveling in fancy breads seemed completely out of character.
After becoming a follower of Jesus, her perspective on life had changed. She was growing in her faith, thanks to Ms. Bea and regular church attendance. Her foster mom claimed God had a perfect plan for each of our lives, but it’s up to us to seek Him until we know what that plan is.
Did His plan include this town and baking bread for her community? Was Bowie part of God’s plan?
She was starting to believe, to hope, to pray, that he was.
Yet, a painful truth nagged in the back of her mind, needing release but holding back because of the kids. They were small, vulnerable innocents. They had to come first, even before her feelings for Bowie.
She longed to tell Bowie everything about her past and about the kids, but was confession the right thing, the loving thing to do? Was dumping that ugly knowledge in his lap fair to him?
If she was truthful, shame held her back as well. Now that she’d fallen in love with Bowie, she didn’t want to hurt him. She also didn’t want to watch his love turn to disgust.
“The houska bread I made last week was a hit,” she said, more to stop the disturbing thoughts than for conversation. “Customers asked for it again. Mary Pam stopped me after church to tell me how much her family loved my recipe, especially her Czech grandpa.”
“I’ve always considered bread a special gift from God,” Bea said as she slathered butter onto a slice of the raisin bread. “The Bible is loaded with bread references, you know. Jesus even called his body the bread of life. And God did feed the children of Israel on manna when they were wandering in the wilderness all those years.”
“Was manna a type of bread?”
“I think so. Honey flavored.”
Sage cocked a hand on a hip. “Sure wish I had that recipe.”
Bea laughed. “God kept that one secret, but there are plenty of others.”
“I know. It’s so fun looking through ethnic recipes. I’m thinking stollen or panettone at Christmas. There are so many wonderful Christmas breads it’s hard to decide.”
Bea paused, the bread slice halfway to her lips. “Sounds like someone is settling in for the long haul.”
“Maybe I am.” And in Sundown Valley of all places. “Oh, Ms. Bea, I can’t ever repay you for taking us in. The kids are improving, healing. I haven’t found Ryder sleeping on the floor next to Paisley’s bed in a long time. He’s not such a helicopter brother anymore.”
“Bless his heart.”
“And Paisley’s become my snuggle bug.”
“I noticed that. Every time you sit down, she’s in your lap.”
“I love her. I love reading to her and her big brother. It’s wonderful to see them beginning to relax.”
“I could say the same about you.”
Sage cocked her head, puzzled. “Me?”
“Look at you, honey. Running this bakery, adding new items to the menu. You’ve gotten involved at North Cross and made friends. And of course, there’s that handsome Bowie.”
“This town, and you, have been good to us.”
“So has Bowie.”
“Yes, he has.”
Bea pointed her half-eaten bread. “You’ve fallen in love with him, haven’t you? Exactly the way I hoped.”
No use pretending otherwise. Not with Bea.
“It scares me, Ms. Bea,” she admitted.
“Why, honey? Bowie Trudeau is the least scary man I know. He’ll do right by you. That boy has cared for you since he was fifteen years old.”
Sage shook her head. Her ponytail wobbled. “That’s not what I mean. Bowie’s wonderful.”
“Then what is it? Why can’t you let go and let God bless you with a good life in this fine little town with that fine Christian man who’d do anything to make you happy?”
Sage turned back to the cooling rack and took down a tray of bread to package into plastic bags.
She was tempted to tell Ms. Bea the whole story.
“I keep thinking the other shoe is going to drop.”
Bea rolled her chair to the pass-through door and waved at an incoming customer.
Over one shoulder she said, “Trust God, honey. He’s brought you this far. He has a plan, a perfect one. He’s not going to let you down now.”
As Ms. Bea rolled away, already chatting to the customer, Sage inhaled the warm fragrant bread, straightened her shoulders, and mole-whacked the anxiety trying to rear its ugly head.
Ms. Bea was right. God wouldn’t let her down.
She and the kids were safe here. Bowie loved her. She loved him.
Everything would work out just fine.
* * *
A chilly December dawn broke over the Sundown Ranch as Bowie loped to his truck and hopped inside.
He was running late.
Last night, he’d worked until after midnight again. This morning he’d overslept. Burning the midnight oil had served him well. He was almost there. The projects, except for two, were complete, and the special order leather for those two was already cut.
He was going to make the deadline with quality workmanship he was proud to put his name on.
Back in business, he’d call Isaiah House sometime today and let Ian know the plumbing money would soon be headed his way.
Pulling up to the workshop, he hopped out, eager to get started.
The front of the building was dark.
Bowie frowned up at the security light above the doorway.
The bulb must have burned out during the night. He’d have to get that replaced.
Humming a praise tune, he approached the door. Suddenly, he froze. A chill slithered down his spine. He couldn’t see anything out of place, couldn’t put his finger on the problem, but something was wrong.
He reached for the doorknob. It turned easily in his hand.
Without the key.
Pulse jerking, he eased the door open. “Anyone in here?”
Nothing. No sound other than his own hoarse breathing.
He flipped on the lights.
And his heart stopped.
* * *
Twenty minutes later, the county sheriff was there to assess the damage. Wade had arrived in less than five.
Just having his cousin in the building helped, though at the moment, he was devastated.
“Someone made a real mess,” the sheriff said.
“Yeah.” Bowie raked a hand over his head.
Every cabinet, every drawer, every tool had been dumped on the floor. Leatherwork was scattered everywhere.
“Any of this valuable?”
“Some of it.” He retrieved the piece of leather he’d cut last night. The expensive special order material was ruined, a large, muddy footprint stamped across what would have been the flap of a handbag. It made him sick to his stomach. “Very valuable.”
Wade shot him a questioning glance. He waved him off. “I’ll explain later.”
His cousin nodded. “You suspect the same people I do?”
He nodded, adding, “We also have to consider the hobo we’ve spotted lurking around. The one I told you about. First seen near your wedding and now he’s been spotted again by several others, including me and Sage. Could have been him.”
“Have you checked the security camera?”
Bowie nodded grimly. “Someone knew enough to duct tape the lens.”
“Great. Just great.” Wade scowled at the mess, fuming. “Is anything missing?”
“Can’t tell. Won’t know until I sort through all of this and put things where they belong.”
“I’ll stay and help. Moving pasture can wait until tomorrow.”
Grimly, Bowie perched his hands on his hips, his chest heaving in one heavy breath. “Sheriff wants to get fingerprints first.”
The sheriff looked up from snapping photos of the debris. “Mind if I take that leather you got there? We might be able to use that footprint.”
Belly lower than a snake, Bowie handed over the piece. The leather itself was costly, but at least he hadn’t yet put in hours tooling the design.
He gazed at the stack of handbags he’d retrieved from the floor. Were they salvageable?
Or should he just give up, call Katherine Pembroke, return the advance money, and let his dream die here on the dirty, debris-scattered floor?
* * *
After the sheriff left, Bowie told Wade about the contract, asking him to keep the news under his hat, especially now. He wanted his cousin to understand why this break-in mattered so much.
Wade cupped a hand to Bowie’s shoulder. “Whatever you need, brother. Don’t worry about the ranch. Riley and I can hold the fort for the next couple of weeks while you catch up in here.”
“I don’t know if I’ll be able to.” He was down. No use denying it. Having his shop ransacked, his leatherwork destroyed, had hit him hard. “Time’s not on my side.”
“Maybe not.” Wade looked him in the eye. “But we are.”
The reassurance buoyed him. He couldn’t give up. He had to try.
With his cousin’s careful help, Bowie began the task of sorting through the mess.
Thirty minutes later, Sage stormed through the door. “What on earth happened? Who did this?”
She looked so fierce, Bowie offered a sad smile. “You gonna wring somebody’s neck for me?”
She made a wrenching motion with her hands. “I’d like to. When Wade texted me, I couldn’t believe it. All your hard work, all these beautiful bags and wallets.” She clenched her teeth and shuddered. “Ooh, I’m so mad.”
Wade chuckled. “Remind me not to get her riled.”
She sure was beautiful when she was defending her people. An Amazonian warrior, just like in the movies.
“I’m pretty mad myself.”
Squinting at him, she said, “You don’t look mad. You look devastated.”
Bowie tilted his head. “That works.”
She walked right up to him and slid her arms around his waist and leaned against him. “I’m sorry, babe. So, so sorry. I know what this means to you.”
Wade cleared his throat. “I think I should go check cows or something. Leave you two alone. Call me if you need me.”
Bowie lifted a hand from Sage’s shoulder and waved his cousin away. Wade couldn’t help. He knew nothing about leather crafting. No one could help.
Except maybe Sage.
“Thank you for coming out here,” he murmured against her hair. “You make me feel better.”
“That’s my line. You’re the one who rescues everybody.”
Except himself.
She pulled back to stare around the room, still fuming. Because of him. For his sake. Because she cared, and that caring felt a lot like love.
“What can you salvage?”
He and Wade had made some progress, but the place was still a mess.
“Quite a bit, I think. Wade and I found all of the PJ products.” He pointed to a table he’d cleared. “Two are ruined and two are not yet finished. The others appear to be unharmed.”
“So, you have four projects to complete between now and December 16.”
He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Unless a problem shows up on one of the other six.”
“Okay.” She moved around the shop, taking long, graceful strides that distracted him from the carnage of his dream. “If you do nothing but focus on the contracted bags for the remaining time, can you make the deadline?”
“Maybe. But I have other obligations. I can’t spend every waking moment out here.”
“What if you can? What if the rest of the world leaves you alone? I mean, everyone. So you have nothing to do but this.”
“Then I’d make that deadline or die trying.”
She plopped out a long-fingered hand. “Give me your cell phone.”
* * *
Bowie never knew for certain what Sage had done, but suddenly, his phone stopped ringing, his texts stopped pinging and the only people who ever entered his workshop were Wade or Sage. Wade even brought his clothes and meals to the shop so that he didn’t have to go home unless he wanted to.
The only time he took a real break was the night of Sundown Valley’s Christmas Parade. The church entered a float every year. This year, Ryder and Paisley were part of the children’s choir riding on that float.
He wouldn’t have missed their moment for anything.
Waiting on the sidewalk outside the bakery, he huddled deep in his fleece-lined jacket. Next to him Sage hopped up and down, trying to keep warm.
He was exhausted. His eyes burned. His body ached. After the days stuck inside, he welcomed the fresh air.
To signal the start of the parade, a police car drove slowly past, blaring a siren down Main Street.
Sage stopped bouncing and leaned closer, voice lifted. “How’s the work going?”
“Never mind that. I’ve missed you.”
“Me too. You’ve been working nonstop. No interruptions?”
Using any excuse to touch her, he tugged her hood up. “None. I wonder how that happened.”
Sage only smiled and slid an arm around his waist to snuggle close. “Cold out here.”
“Uh-huh.” He covered her shoulders with his thickly jacketed arm. “Gotta stay warm.”
She chuckled, pale eyes bright as the high school band marched past with a cheerful rendition of “God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen.”
“The floats are next.” She pointed. Her height, like his, gave her an advantage over the other townsfolk gathered in front of the business.
Occasionally, someone popped into the bakery for a coffee or to get warm. He noticed the way Sage kept a close eye through the window to be sure Ms. Bea didn’t need her.
The older woman had come to depend on Sage.
So had he. He realized how much when she’d somehow cleared his schedule, gotten friends from the church to cover his widow errands and even regimented how long the two of them spoke on the phone each night.
He’d laughed and called her a control freak, but in truth, he was grateful beyond words.
Her text messages, which ended with heart emojis and funny gifs, had kept him going.
He ended his with Love, Bowie.
“Deadline’s on Tuesday,” he said, paying more attention to her than the passing float of Santa’s workshop complete with school-age elves.
Sage turned her eyes to his. “And?”
He let the smile come.
“I’m going to make it.” He kissed her nose. “Because of you.”
Chapter Fifteen
Sage stood at the bakery counter discussing a donation to the Christmas Bazaar, a fundraiser put on by the police and fire departments to provide Christmas for local foster children.
Sundown Valley, she’d learned, pulled out all the stops for the holidays, everything from parades, and pageants to the city-wide bazaar.
Along Main Street, garlands and bright red bows turned the streetlights into cheerful glowing candy canes. Santa and nativity scenes appeared in shop windows.
The festive atmosphere put a bounce in everyone’s steps and smiles on faces.
The season was glorious, filled with love and hope. So was Sage.
Today Bowie would ship the handbags to PJ Enterprises. He’d made his deadline. Tonight he was coming over to celebrate.
Whipping out her phone, she texted a quick, Can’t wait to see you. Love, Sage.
She’d missed him terribly these last weeks, a loneliness that opened her eyes to true love. Love like Bowie displayed. Love God’s way.
She was happy here. The kids were more secure than they’d probably ever been.
Sundown Valley had become home.
Home where people did wonderful things like buying Christmas gifts for foster families.
“This is a project near to my heart,” Sage told the perky red-haired wife of police chief Adam. “My sister and I were foster kids with Ms. Bea.”
“Adam mentioned that. He said you’d understand the importance of the bazaar.”
“He’s right. What do you suggest we donate?”
“The specialty breads. Anything Christmassy would sell especially well this time of year. Your breads are so good, Sage. Ms. Bea says you’re the one making them now, not her.”
“A labor of love.” But she was thrilled at the compliments. Some even claimed her bread was better than Bea’s but those were comments she kept tucked inside. “How many loaves can you sell?”
